“When I left the opera house, I stumbled to the next train out of town and fell immediately asleep; when I left the afternoon broadcast, I stepped out onto the sidewalk and discovered that the sun had set while I’d been in the dark, watching. The sky’d gone all orange and blue and was seemingly cloudless, but a thin flurry of huge white flakes snowed down as if from nowhere and then, after a moment, it stopped.”

What La Cieca thinks is going to live as the definitive take on John AdamsNixon in China at the Met is sitting there, just waiting for you to read it, at Daniel Stephen Johnson.

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